Follow our American family of 4 (+ one dog) as we begin our new life in Lillehammer, Norway.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

School Start

My first-born, now 6-year old missing her 7th
tooth, started school in Norway on August 18th. There is no kindergarten for 5 year old
in Norway, and I’ve learned at our first parent meeting that had I attended
elementary school in Norway, I would not have begun school until ripe old age
of 7 (as I believe is still the case in Finland)!

Starting school is a huge milestone in any child and
parent’s life, although I realized that my anxiety and excitement about Greta
starting school was definitely heightened due to the fact that she is taking
this step in a foreign country, foreign culture, with foreign expectations.
After Erik and I attended a new parent meeting at Greta’s school back in May, I
was so grateful that I had four years to master the language before attending a
meeting informing me of what a parent could expect with a first grader at our
local school. I can’t imagine being unable to read the “Fredagsbrev” (Friday letter) that is sent home every week, or not
understanding the weekly calendar.

Despite the reassurance and preparation we received from our
parent meeting, I discovered on Day One of school that I had expectations that
I didn’t even realize I had until those expectation weren’t met. I found myself
really irritated that we hadn’t received a letter from the classroom teachers
in the weeks leading up to school start explaining what school supplies a 6
year old needs. I found myself highly
irritated that I could not find information anywhere—anywhere—on what the hours of school are for the 1st
grade class (they differ from grade to grade, and apparently, from school to
school within the same town!). Not on the school’s website (a public school),
or on the class page, or on the town’s official webpage. . . nowhere! We had
received this information in May at the parent’s meeting on a piece of paper,
but that had long since been misplaced. I eventually emailed the school, who
forwarded it on to one of the classroom teachers, who responed almost
immediately—the day before school started.

These minor and major surprises will most certainly keep
popping up—expectations I have about how a “normal” first grade class
functions, based solely on my own dim 33 year-old memories and stories I hear
from friends back in the US.

We received a letter from the school the Saturday before
school started, welcoming the parents and children to an official start of
school send-off, meeting outside at the flagpole, at 10am for the new first
graders. With Henrik happily off at barnehage, Erik and I walked the 0.8km with
our growing girl to the local public school—Søre Ål barneskole. We met a mass
of parents, children, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings gathered at the
flagpole.

Søre Ål skole has what they call an “open” classroom—an
educational approach that has been used very successfully at this particular
school for over 30 years, we are told. None of the other elementary schools in
Lillehammer use this type of set-up, but we have heard that the teachers who
work here are very satisfied and happy with this kind of organization. Greta’s
class has 47 children in it, and three “kontakt” teachers. Each teacher has a
set group of kids that they have primary responsibility for, but the children
interact with each teacher as well. For math class, for example, the class is
divided into three groups. For gym, they might divide into two, and alternate
that activity with music, and then swap teachers.For another lesson, an assistant might come in, and the
class is divided into four.

The 47 children have two different rooms—one that has a
divider down the middle, and another large open room where all 47 kids can sit
in a circle on the floor. In the main classroom, the kids sit at tables of 5-6
kids (assigned, of course) and I’m told these table assignments will change
over the school year. It is a system that sounds incredibly complicated and
chaotic, but according to every parent that I have spoken to, it works.

So. . . 47 kids, plus their parents,and potentially their grandparents,
aunts, uncles,and a few younger
siblings are gathering at the flagpole. The rektor
(principal) calls each child up individually to stand with their kontakt lære (main teacher). Some kids
are nervous, and haul their parents along, too. Greta hangs back, but bravely
marches forward with a gentle shove from her mamma.

I thought this was it (another expectation I didn’t realize
I held). I thought we’d give her a hug and kiss goodbye , wave, and walk home
for a cup of coffee before I had to turn around and pick her up in 2 hours and
45 minutes at 12:45 (more on that later).But no. . . . now ALL the parents, grandparents and accessories go into
school together, into the room designed to fit 47 kids in a circle on the
floor. Now 47 kids plus 1-2 parents, some grandparents—let’s estimate 175+
people, shall we?—are trying to fit into a room where the teachers will welcome
the kids and sing silly songs.

I whisper to another mother, “When do we go?” and she
responded, “Oh-we stay all day!” And so it is in Norway. And so we stayed.
Eventually the children separated from the parents—or most of them—and the
parents hung around in the cloakroom, or outdoors on the picnic tables,
drinking bad powdered coffee, occasionally peeking in on the kids, or quietly
sitting on the edge of the classroom, or sometimes right next to their kids.

Which put me (Erik had since decided only one of us needed
to hang out doing nothing with their day, and left for work, with a handful of
other parents) in the situation that I hate most here in Norway—forced to
mingle with a group of strangers, making small talk in a second language.
Looking back it wasn’t nearly as bad as I perhaps thought at the moment—I now
see these parents nearly every day, and will perhaps see them on a regular basis
for the next upteen years, depending of course on the twists of fate.

The second day of school was how I expected the first day of
school to be; I walked Greta to school, along with two other first-grade girls
from our neighborhood, kissed her good-bye at the steps, and in she went. The
third day of school surprised me—Greta met the two neighborhood girls, and the
three of them walked to school alone.And that has continued. For this, I feel very grateful to live in Norway
and Lillehammer—that children are safe not just walking to school, but walking
to school alone. Nearly all the children in the school are within walking
distance to school, and certain neighborhoods organize “gågrupper” (walking groups) of children, so the sidewalks and paths
are filled with children in the half hour before school starts. Older children
are allowed to ride their bikes, but city/national laws (seriously—a national
law) does not allow children under the 4th grade to ride a bike to
school. In the winter, many children will ski or take a spark (kicksled). That will be something to write about for sure.

I don't know how I managed to stumble across your blog today, but I hope you continue! I reveled first in the first day of school, because my granddaughter starts in August, and now I'm thinking I have to change my return ticket to include those first few days... Sigh! I have to pick and choose between birthdays and other milestones. Then I continued to scroll down, and search your other topics, because I can relate! I was a transplant in the 70's and 80's, moved back to the States only to have my daughter return to Norway for University and happily ever after. Since she settled in Bergen, my Oslo dialect is pretty useless, but I'm getting better.So, please, continue to blog! A new follower, me, is listening!

I'm with NMJewel T---your blog is terrific and I hope you keep writing, Emily, even though I know you'll have even less time now. :-) Living in Norway without children, I miss sooo much about Norwegian culture, and I really appreciate that I can learn about these things through your blog.

Who am I, really?

The Other Players

Erik: my sweet husband, a native Minnesotan with Norwegian ancestry. Lived in Voss and Trondheim, Norway from 1994-1996, and vowed to return. Once a competitive cross-country ski racer, now with a PhD under his belt and behind his name, he found a job that brought us all to Norway. Mission Accomplished.

Greta: our cheery 7 year old daughter, born in New England, moved to Norway at the age of 2.5 years and quickly became bilingual. Never stops drawing or reading, unless I tell her to put it down and pick up her violin.

Henrik: our newest addition, born in Lillehammer in February 2013, but still 100% American blooded and loves Elmo, tractors and cranes.

Tika: our 10 year old, 80lb Weimaraner/Black Lab hunk of a dog, who bravely faced her fears of confined spaces and loud noises and flew across the Atlantic Ocean in a drug-induced haze, and lived to bark about it. Loves tennis balls, long runs in the woods, and these gross dried fish treats we've found here.